


Petty Moves

by stratumgermanitivum, whiskeyandspite



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Bondage, Car Sex, Coercion, Derogatory dirty talk, Dirty Talk, Drug Use, Extra Limbs, Extremely Dubious Consent, Feels, Longing, M/M, Nostalgia, One-Sided Crush, Poor Angel, Restraint, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Sex Work, Sexual Coercion, Slapping, Smoke Limbs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:13:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28097484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stratumgermanitivum/pseuds/stratumgermanitivum, https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskeyandspite/pseuds/whiskeyandspite
Summary: Thirteen blocks. Angel knew the route by heart. Thirteen city blocks between the club and the little apartment, more of a glorified closet, that Val had set up for him. There was a good chance Val would follow him in, but an even greater chance he’d get distracted by something and flutter away. The apartment was apparently good enough to tuck Angel away in, but not good enough to fuck him in. Val preferred his penthouse forthat.Based quite literally on the one shot from the Addict video of Val and Angel in the limo.
Relationships: Angel Dust/Valentino (Hazbin Hotel)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 84





	Petty Moves

**Author's Note:**

> We discovered Hazbin Hotel less than 48 hours ago and immediately decided what we like, and how we like it. So this is our first and certainly not last foray into the fandom. We bring vice and little virtue. We're from the Hannibal fandom originally and we like us some dark stuff. 
> 
> We're still getting used to writing about the extra limbs and Hell geography so be patient with us! Feel free to correct anything outright wrong if it's canon and we missed it.
> 
> Thank you for reading!

“You’re always so nervous when you get off stage, sweetheart,”

Angel didn’t say anything. He shrugged his coat up higher against his shoulders and sat lower in the seat, eyes deliberately out the window and away from Valentino. At least the girls weren’t with him this time. Wretched things, hanging off Val like they were sewn to him. He knew what was coming, it had been the only thing Val had talked about for weeks now, and the lead up was always the same.

“I think a change of pace is just what you need.”

Get off the stage and onto a sound stage. Off the pole and into bed. Away from actively prying eyes to passively gawking ones.

Away from passive lusts and into more hands-on sins.

The thought itself wasn’t unappealing it was just that… he didn’t want to do it for  _ Val. _

“Gotta stay in shape somehow.”

“Oh, you’ll stay in shape, sugar,” Angel could see the cloying smoke gathering out the corner of his eye and swallowed. “You’re my best boy. I’d never drop you into the deep end without some help.”

Fingers, somehow always sticky despite the fact that they didn’t even  _ exist, _ curled beneath Angel’s chin and turned his head. Fighting wasn’t worth it; once smoke turned to flesh and blood things always got messy, and he could barely afford rent right now, let alone the makeup needed to cover up a beating. So he turned, top lip slipping over the bottom one in an effort to appear beguiling, and drew his brows.

“Thanks, Daddy,” he mumbled. Hell -  _ ha! _ \- knew the kind of mood Val was in that evening, but the safest bet was always the tried and true.

Val’s eyes sparkled behind his sunglasses, in place even in the dimly lit back of the limo, well after dark. Not that the sun ever rose as brightly in hell as it had in life. 

Goddamn primadonna, always had to look so overdramatic. Which came first, the pimp stereotype, or Val? It was impossible to tell, with how committed he was to the bit. 

“Knew you had some pretty manners in there somewhere,” Val murmured, reaching out until the fingers that cupped Angel’s jaw were flesh and blood, and felt more like iron. 

“Haven’t I been good to you, Daddy?” Angel cooed, eyelashes fluttering. “I danced just for you. It’s  _ always _ for you.”

It was less of an act, and more of a depressing fact of Angel’s unlife. It wasn’t like he had anyone else to dance for, even if dancing for  _ Val _ wasn’t what he wanted to do most days, either. 

“Laying it on a little thick tonight, aren’t you, sugar?” Val asked, though he didn’t seem at all displeased. On the contrary, his grip tightened, and a third arm slipped free of his oversized coat to wrap around Angel’s waist and draw him in.

They were similar in this aspect, at least: they both lived for the attention. Val loved to have Angel focused on him, even if it was obvious to the whole fucking underworld that Angel was playing a role. If anything, roleplay seemed to be Val’s kink of choice.

Thirteen blocks. Angel knew the route by heart. Thirteen city blocks between the club and the little apartment, more of a glorified closet, that Val had set up for him. There was a good chance Val would follow him in, but an even greater chance he’d get distracted by something and flutter away. The apartment was apparently good enough to tuck Angel away in, but not good enough to fuck him in. Val preferred his penthouse for  _ that _ .

So, thirteen blocks, twelve now, and Angel could tumble out into the street, clothes in disarray but no worse for the wear. He just had to hold out and try to keep the game light.

“Didn’t I earn a treat?” he asked, moving where Val wanted him, straddling one thigh with his long limbs. “Just a little… somethin’ somethin’?” he tapped his nose, bit his lip, and Val hummed, as though genuinely considering denying him.

Eleven blocks. They’d hit traffic soon; passing from one Circle to another always caused a back up.

“I suppose a little won’t kill you,” Val’s laugh barked loud through the cab of the limo. He reached into his coat and pulled out a vial of elaborately twisted glass. He’d given Angel one just like it, the first time he’d let him try the dust down here. Angel still had it somewhere, buried deep along with the last shreds of his dignity.

He watched as Val uncapped it, brought it to his knee, tipped it. A line, shimmering white, almost glowed against Val’s dark trousers, and Angel fixated on it as the limo slowed, taking the ramp for their exit.

Ten blocks.

“Down you go, baby,” Angel’s arm was yanked down, another hand vice-like against the back of his neck to move him where Val wanted him. And Angel went, because even a line, a single one, was better than none. A line, even a single one, numbed him enough for the rest of the blocks to pass by in a blur.

He ducked his head and breathed it in, a short sharp intake, practiced and quick, and moaned.

“Fuck,” he sniffed, knuckle up to catch any dust that hadn’t entered his system. He tried to sit up.

“I never said you could come back up,” Val’s voice was low, lilted as though playful, joking, but Angel knew that tone. It was the  _ don’t sass me _ tone, the  _ I can and will fuck you up _ tone.

“Do I get more?” he asked, turning his head just enough to be able to look up.

“You get something better, sweetheart. On your knees, come on. I shouldn’t have to fucking guide you.”

It didn’t crush that bit of hope in Angel’s chest, though it soured his mood a bit. He’d been expecting it, after all.

Besides,  _ nothing _ crushed that hope, that eagerness for the next hit, especially when the first one was still coming on. 

And coming on it was. Even as Angel settled between Val’s calves, lower hands braced against the floor while his upper hands reached to undo Val’s belt, he could feel the tingling already beginning. 

Maybe it was that the stuff was better down here, purer, maybe it was just that Angel hadn’t been human in half a century and the memories had gone blurry around the edges, but the good stuff always seemed to hit him faster and harder nowadays. 

Or maybe it was just that he had even more reason to let it take him without resistance or hesitation, more reason to let go and float on and lose everything to the haze. 

“Can we turn the music down?” He muttered, pulling Val’s cock free, already hard and straining towards his lips. It wasn’t too loud yet, but Angel knew from experience that it  _ would _ be.

“I’m sure we can muffle it,” Val said with a laugh, loud and mocking, slinging one leg over Angel’s shoulder to pull him in tight. 

Angel opened his mouth just in time for the limo to jerk to a halt, forcing him to swallow more than he expected. He choked, pulled back, groaned when he found no give and tried to catch his breath. The car moved again, another shudder of stop-start that didn’t help Angel’s oncoming dizziness.

Traffic.

That meant they’d passed into another lower Circle, that meant eight blocks.

He could suck cock for eight blocks. Hell, he could suck it for all thirteen; he’d done it before, and he was good at it. Val reminded him over and over, just how  _ good at this  _ he was, how  _ made for it _ he was.

“Easy, baby,” Val groaned, leaning back in his seat and yanking Angel’s hair to adjust his position. “Little slut mouth of yours will get me off before I want you to.”

Angel flattened his tongue, fisted his hands.

“You’ll make a killing on screen, baby,” Val’s voice pooled above him like water. Angel tilted his head to try and muffle that too, to no avail. “Much more than you do climbing that pole every night. Could get out of that shitty apartment, into a nice new place.”

_ Like you couldn’t relocate me now, _ Angel thought miserably. It wouldn’t matter how much money he was making, he wasn’t keeping any of it.

Suddenly, Angel was pulled all the way back, and the music violated his ears once more. Too-loud and beat-heavy. Immediately, one hand went up to press to his ear.

“Ow.”

“Look at me,” Angel did. “I’m gonna make you a star, kid.”

Val’s laugh felt like a cheese grater, and Angel winced. He felt like someone was using his nerves as a tambourine. He wanted it to just  _ stop. _

“Okay,” he managed. He didn’t even feel the slap at first, his senses were going haywire fighting each other, but eventually the pain filtered through and he brought another hand up to rub his cheek.

_ “Oww,” _

“What was that, sweetheart?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Just yes?” Val wheedled. He’d slipped another cigarette between his lips and flicked a finger against his thumb to light a spark. “That’s all you have to say to the man about to change your life? Baby… I taught you better.”

Angel hissed in a breath through his teeth and forced a smile, wide as he could manage.

“Whatever you want, Mista Valentino,” he chirped instead, pitched and pretty. He still recoiled when Val bent down and kissed him, lips firmly sealed against the onslaught.

One line wasn’t enough to numb  _ that. _

And there were six more blocks to go, if the smell of Cannibal Corner was anything to go by.

Sharp teeth found Val's lower lip and tugged, sharp enough to leave pinprick sparks and draw the scent of copper to the surface. Angel’s blood might have tinted itself pink nowadays, but the taste of iron stayed familiar. 

“Come on now, baby, play nice,” Val said, low and thick with warning. “I know how you get. You’ll be feeling nice and soft for me any minute now, won’t you? Don’t you want it to last?

_ I don’t kiss on the mouth _ .

The movie had come long after Angel’s time, and it wasn’t like Hell imported a lot of cinema from upworld, not when they could make their own, with blackjack, and hookers. But people died every day and brought decades of cultural osmosis with them, and so it was Pretty Woman that sat in the back of Angel’s head as he forced himself to part his lips.

He could have bitten Val’s tongue clean off with his own oh-so-sharp chompers, and there was a moment where he wanted to.

But while Angel had an extra pair of arms over Val’s, tucked away, Val had smoke and mirrors and a dizzying amount of power. And he was just. Bigger. Angel was nearly nine goddamn feet tall now and Val made him feel like a child the way he moved him.

Val licked into him like he owned him, and he did. He hauled Angel up to straddle his thighs and Angel realized with nauseous certainty that Val had no intention of finishing in his mouth tonight. 

He turned his head aside, ostensibly to offer up his throat but honestly just to get some air. The car was filled with that cloying smoke that Val controlled and it was stifling. It drugged him worse than the dust but in a  _ bad _ way. Angel gazed at the cigarette in the armrest ashtray as lips pressed lingering unwelcome kisses down his throat, to his chest.

Angel reached out to open one of the windows, the gasp of fresh air enough to clear his head a little.

No.

He didn’t want to be clear. He rolled the thing back up again. He had five blocks to go. That wasn’t much. He could do five blocks.

“Always want it to last, Daddy,” he purred, all four hands up to slip to the back of Val’s head to hold on, guiding him to kiss lower, down the vee of open skin his jacket revealed. Just not his lips. Two hands shifted to Val’s shoulders, hoping he’d just… stay there, horny and exploratory til the limo ground to a halt outside of Angel’s building and he was tossed out.

The deliberate push of the pimp’s hard cock against Angel’s thigh broke that delusion right quick. But the drug was working, the smoke was working, his strength was fading enough that every touch against him felt like a command, and every touch he tried to give back felt fake.

Linen-limbed, someone had described it once.

Angel gazed groggily at his own hands as red smoke swirled around his wrists and tugged them back and away from Val.

“No,” he whined, petulant but still pretty, and Val caught his chin with cool fingers.

“You know Daddy hates that word, baby boy,” he purred. “Don’t be naughty.”

It would hurt. It didn’t have to, but Angel knew it would. Val liked it better when it hurt a little, and worse, Angel did too. He didn’t want to like it, and he didn’t want to ache the next day. A little touching, a little heavy petting. Like high school sweethearts going steady, not like a pimp and his whore. 

But Angel  _ was _ a whore, and Val was his pimp, and Angel was weak and heavy in his lap. Smoke held him steady as four sets of hands freed Val from his coat, tossing it to sprawl across the bottom of the limo.

Not even the fucking backseat? Asshole.

Still, Angel was a sucker for that damn coat. Val liked to occasionally drape him in it when he was cold, when Val was in a good mood and felt like playing boyfriend, and every time it was unbearably soft and warm. It was like that now as Val pushed him onto the floor to lay atop it.

“Wanna touch you,” Angel whined, coaxing, sliding his third set of arms free of wherever they went when he didn’t need them. The metaphysics of Hell were too much for the kaleidoscopic mess his mind was melting into.

Touch him, slow and sweet and steady or fast and rough until he came all over Angel, but not inside, Angel was so  _ tired _ of letting people inside, just a few days without someone touching and kissing and nipping, god or satan or who the fuck ever,  _ please _ .

“Now now, darlin’, you know that’s cheating.” Val’s tone was playful, but the swat he delivered to Angel’s cheek was just a bit too much sting to be a game. “Put those away, you don’t need them. Hell, you don’t need  _ any _ of them, Daddy’s got it.”

Angel whined and retracted them. When he tried to reach for Val's cock with another hand, that was swatted away and Angel’s world suddenly flipped, quite literally, upside down. It was still spinning by the time it occurred to him that he’d been shoved face first into the fur collar.

Right.

He wasn’t playing boyfriend today. He was testing the merchandise before it went on sale again.

And again.

And again. 

And ag--

“Fuck,” he groaned, allowing his legs to be spread, his skirt to be yanked up, his panties yanked down, the fabric pulling tight over his thighs where it caught. He arched his back, couldn’t help it. His mind was conjuring up pretty images of when Val  _ did _ want him, and when he  _ was _ kind to him, and when he  _ didn’t _ recruit Angel to be the next big thing in his porn business.

He’d kissed him once, so deeply that Angel thought he’d goddamn ascended right then and there.

He didn’t kiss him like that anymore.

Angel didn’t let anyone kiss him anymore.

Hands spreading him open, the feeling of spit hitting skin and Angel winced. Yuck. It was one thing to eat a boy out but this was uncalled for. He’d need to buy new clothes after this; he couldn’t afford his goddamn rent.

“Fuck me,” he ground out, words muffled by the fur.

“That’s more like it, sugar, tell me how much you want it.”

Dirty talk could go one of two ways. Either Angel spurred him on so much that Val fucked him fast and frantic and bloody- but finished quickly- or Angel put on such a show of loving it that Val got off on it, and he actually touched Angel like he cared if he enjoyed it- but then he might drag it out for hours.

Angel wasn’t sure he was capable of either right now, tongue-tied and cotton mouthed. “Fuck me,” he managed again, louder, panting wetly into the coat. He tried to spread his legs, anything to ease what was coming. Val was tall, and he was  _ proportionate,  _ and it was going to  _ hurt.  _

Angel was going to have to start carrying lube in his fuckin pockets and then he was never going to stop thinking about how many times he bent over for any demon who paid him enough. 

If he’d been wearing his own panties, they would have torn by now, cheap dime a dozen garbage. But he was dressed entirely in  _ gifts _ and their strings, and the satin Val bought him stretched and twisted but didn’t give way. He felt trapped, and now he could feel Val pressing up against his back and warning bells were going off in his head. 

“Wait--“ Angel gasped, the role leaving him, his body limp on the floor of the limo, hands scrabbling for purchase. “Wait, just a second, just a little more, I-- lemme touch you, touch  _ me,  _ just--“

The limo was a cacophony of noise and sound and above it all was a low rumbling laugh that spilled over into Angel’s dreams. His wrists were caught, two pinned behind his back, two over his head. 

“Can’t help myself, baby. You’re just so beautiful.”

"Shit, no no no--" rough fingers grasped claw-like against his neck and held him still, shoving his face into the fur as Angel squirmed beneath him.

"Little slut," Val laughed. "You know just how to get me hot don't you? Making me work for it."

A sharp slap against his ass made Angel moan, another made him shiver and arch back.

"Open up baby boy, open wide for Daddy."

_ "Ha-ah!" _ Angel's vision went red. The smoke, cloying and sweet, filled his nostrils and his entire mind. Whatever numbness the dust had offered was shoved aside, overcome by the power of that  _ bastard. _

Fuck it  _ hurt _ . Angel felt the beginnings of arousal warm him, warring with the smoke in his system, warring with the panic in his head. Beneath him, the limo rumbled along, alive and angry, like a demon in its own right.

"Hurts," Angel croaked, eyes rolling back. "Fuck,  _ ow," _

The smoke slid out of his nostrils, between his teeth, and the full strength of the dust must have finally fully kicked in, because  _ surely _ Val wasn't leaning close,  _ surely  _ he wasn't shifting Angel's hair with his breath, nuzzling his temple, purring in his ear...

_ "Good." _

Angel gave into it; into the numbness of his head, the sharp biting pain in his ass, his own body responding to the fucking, because it always did,  _ always. _ He gave into the sweat and the damp fur against his face and up his nostrils. He gave into the music screaming around them, into the roaring engine beneath--

Everything blurred. 

Twisted and twined in a bundle of red smoke, of fire in his lungs and colors behind his eyes. Pain and heat against him and Val was  _ everywhere _ , he was  _ inside him _ , he’d flooded Angel’s veins, stained him in bruises under the skin and Angel was never,  _ never _ going to get him back out.

There were tears in Angel’s eyes and he was  _ hard _ , rutting against the floor. He was gonna come all over Val’s stupid fucking coat and he didn’t know if he was thrilled at the petty revenge or terrified of what the response might be.

Building and building and building and every nerve ending was screaming, and Angel was screaming too, gasping out into the limo, rewarding Val’s tenacity with noises that were more pleasure than pain. Encouraging Val. Showing him that no matter how much Angel fought and kicked and screamed, he was a slut in the end, and sluts got off.

Fuck fuck fuck, spilling from Angel’s lips, was he thinking or speaking, he didn’t know, he couldn’t  _ breathe _ \--

“Come on, baby boy, come for daddy,” a breath against his ear, a nip of sharp teeth against his jaw, and Angel was  _ gone. _

The aftershocks were always the best part, in Angel’s opinion. When everything was hazy and his body was shaking with adrenaline and need, and he hadn’t hit the sleepy stage yet. Everything was amplified, loud and bright and raw. It made him feel alive.

Above him, Val stopped moving for a moment, his muscles tense, his breath hitched as he filled Angel up, pulled out at the last second and claimed him with hot stray drops of seed over his back and ass after. A slap to his ass sent Angel sprawling in his own mess on the limo floor and he groaned.

“That’s my bitch,” Val murmured with a sigh. He let Angel’s wrists go and sat back, doing up his trousers before sitting up into the seat again as Angel lay at his feet, weak and filthy.

As always.

As  _ fucking _ always.

Why did Angel ever think it would be different?

With a sigh he tucked his face into the fur he hadn’t managed to chew through his orgasm and closed his eyes.

He didn’t know how long he was out before the limo jerked to a stop again.

“That’s your stop baby,” Val said, nudging the toe of his shoe against the inside of Angel’s thigh.

“Mmm no, wanna go home with you.”

“Too bad, sugar, Daddy’s a busy man,” the nudge became a rougher shove, and Angel pushed up on his elbows, lower arms reaching back to pull his panties back on, his skirt down over them. Not that it covered much, he could already feel himself leaking. He looked over his shoulder, watching that red smoke coil up around Val’s head like a scarf, like a snake.

“Can ya come get me in the morning?” He asked instead.

“You know your way to the studio, sweetheart,” Val countered. “Shoot starts at nine. I’ve booked you an easy first job, baby, a casual threesome, you’ll be great.”

Not like Angel hadn’t done it before. Not like he hadn’t done it before with  _ Val _ .

But there was a loneliness that came with this job, a sort of isolation that Angel had never had to deal with back when he just did this for fun.

Back before Val had swept in and ‘saved’ him. Back before Angel had learned to beg for scraps of affection like they were dog treats. 

Nervousness and a killer high would keep him up all night. Angel wobbled as he got to his feet, stumbling  _ almost _ on purpose into Val’s lap. 

“You gonna miss me, Daddy?” He cooed, nuzzling under Val’s jaw. He could tell he’d pleased him, even if he’d mostly been squirming around and whining. Val’s laugh had good humor to it, for once. 

“Of course, babycakes.”

“Gimme something to remember you by?”

Angel tipped his head back, exposing the long column of his throat, bare and ready for bite marks or smoky collars. Val rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.

“Alright, greedy boy, scootch back and Daddy will pour out another line for you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Questions? Comments? Love? Ping us over on [TWITTER](https://twitter.com/sw_writestuff), [TUMBLR](https://stratsandwhiskeywritestuff.tumblr.com/), or [CURIOUSCAT](https://curiouscat.me/sw_writestuff)!
> 
> _Just hear me out  
>  If it's not perfect I'll perfect it 'til my heart explodes  
> I highly doubt  
> That I can make it through another of your episodes  
> Lashing out  
> One of the petty moves you pull before you lose control  
> You wear me out  
> But it's all right now_  
> \- Get Stoned, Hinder


End file.
